


No Lonelier State

by geckoholic



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4596318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He had no plans to return. The familiar shape of the Citadel – now crowned by a wealth of green even larger than before – rises before him once more, and he means to go the way he came. It’s been a few years, and the people he left behind here exist, healthy and whole, in his memory. But he finds himself pulled in, driving towards and not away. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Lonelier State

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florahart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/gifts).



> Written for the prompts "Max comes back to the Citadel" and "Max and Furiosa actually, non-sexually, sleeping together".
> 
> Beta-read by andibeth82. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "The Chemicals Between Us" by Bush.

He had no plans to return. The familiar shape of the Citadel – now crowned by a wealth of green even larger than before – rises before him once more, and he means to go the way he came. It’s been a few years, and the people he left behind here exist, healthy and whole, in his memory. To return means to risk that image; maybe at least one of them is now gone. He doesn’t like to _know_. He prefers the safety of _assuming_. 

(It’s not hope, nor believing. Both these things are foolish, and despite the name she gave him when they first met, he is no fool. He doesn’t cling to illusions.) 

But he finds himself pulled in, driving towards and not away, and he comes up with reasons to justify the visit: he can’t remember the last time he had water that wasn’t stale and from a can, and he’s low on fuel. This is about necessities, not wanting, he tells himself as he steers his car in the direction of the gate. 

 

***

 

After he’s made sure the car is well-hidden and kept away from prying eyes, he passes by a cluster of children – their skin sunburnt and rosy rather than white and sickly – playing in the shade. They’re small; some of them might not have been born yet the last time he was here. A memory pulls at his brain, but he discards it, an unwelcome reminder of a reality he shed a long time ago in order to be able to continue living. There are still voices in his head but the faces have faded into silhouettes, and it makes them a little more bearable. He wonders, instead, if one of these wee ones belongs to the Dag; the child whose innocence she fought so hard to protect. Neither of them looks at all like her, though, and he walks on. 

 

*** 

 

The first of them he runs into is Capable. She comes up from where she was crouched over the engine of a war rig, wiping sweat of her forehead, her hands greasy, and she steps off the rig when she spots him, gives a little wave to beckon him closer. Her lips curve into a smile, and he’s smiling back before he knows it. He recognizes the feeling that floods him as relief and it shouldn’t be possible, he should have forgotten, but he hasn’t. Maybe that’s a good thing. Proves he’s still human; a man, not a creature of the wild, made up entirely of instinct and grief.

(Maybe it’s the very thing he feared, coming here.)

He waves back and closes up to her, allowing himself to feel the warm sensation that floods him when she hooks her arm in under his and leads him towards the rock that serves as home for all of them, now, after they claimed it as theirs.

Suddenly, he’s terrified, and he doesn’t know why.

Nevertheless, he follows her willingly as she takes him to meet Cheedo, who smiles even brighter, holds still while she wraps her arms around him, not quite ready yet to hug her back, his arms raised awkwardly hovering midair. Capable winks at him in an unexpected display of understanding and solidarity, and pries her friend off him.

Cheedo isn’t deterred; she’s still smiling. “It’s good to have someone come back, for once,” she says. “Usually, people just leave, never to be seen again.”

He doesn’t tell her how that was his intention. She takes his free hand, twines their fingers, and as such they slowly make their way through the catacombs inside the rock.

 

***

 

Sitting in front of the former vault – he didn’t know this, has never been here, but Cheedo talks ceaselessly, a running commentary on every nook and cranny they walk past – they find the Dag. She has a child on her knee – a little girl that looks exactly like her and nothing at all like her father, what a blessing. She seems momentarily lost to the rest of the world in explaining something to the girl, with words and gestures, but she looks up when she senses them approaching.

“Ohh,” she says, and she, too, smiles. “You came back.”

At some point, he will have to tell them that he nearly drove past. That he won’t stay, doesn’t know how. But not right this second; he likes seeing them all with smiles on their faces, and he doesn’t want to take that away from either of them just yet. He’s realistic, disillusioned, but he is not cruel.

The Dag stands, situating the girl on her hip, and joins their little procession. They are now going up, ascending towards the top of the rock, the garden, where it’s green.

He can hear the water rushing down in the distance, briefly reminded of a trip to the seaside he made in another life, how the shore could be seen before it could be heard, but he manages to squash the thought in time, stave off the pain before it can become overwhelming. Toast welcomes them at the entrance to the garden, not rattled in the slightest by his presence. She points to the corner of the large room that’s stuffed with all kinds of plants and flowers, overflowing with green. 

He sees the slim figure bent over a row of seedlings, not doing anything, just looking at them, as if they’d cease to exist were she to let them out of her sight, and he takes in a breath. That gets them her attention. She swings around, body coiled and battle-ready, a lifetime of constant vigilance more powerful than a few years of peace. Upon seeing them, all of them, she relaxes. The seedlings forgotten, she closes up to them in a few long strides, and the wives step back to make room. Inches away from him, she stops, and there’s no smile and hug with her, no handholding.

“You,” she says out loud, and then leans in to whisper his name into his ear, like it’s a secret they share, an incantation, to be used sparsely so it doesn’t wear thin.

The nagging, aimless terror he’s felt falls away.

“Come with me,” she commands, and he does. The wives stay behind; out of the corner of his eyes he sees them now clutching each other, and he’s dimly away of their gazes on his back until he’s out of sight.

 

***

 

He follows her like a shadow as she takes him through the winded paths back down to the vault. Once there, she heaves the heavy steel door open all by herself; he could help, but he figures if she’d wanted him to do so, she’d let him know. She points inside, and he marches through, waiting as she shoves the door closed.

In the middle of the room, there’s a nest of blankets and pillows, a wealth of soft comfort like he hasn’t seen in forever, and that’s where she leads him. Standing in the middle, she lowers herself down, tugs at his hand to do the same.

They lay down side by side, and she closes her eyes, her hand settling on his hip. He stares, and stares some more, but eventually his eyelids grow heavy and he doesn’t fight sleep when it comes to drown him.

The last conscious thought before he drifts away is that he’s finally come home and that, maybe, this time, he’ll be brave enough to stay.


End file.
